You Could Look It Up

There are probably as many Rules for Writers as there are writers. Maybe more. The rule I’m thinking of today goes like this: Don’t show your research.

A good author of fiction will often do a lot of digging before they write.  Does that type of pistol have a safety? What symptoms does that poison cause? How much wood would a woodchuck—Never mind.

These details can make a story more believable and more interesting.  But it has to look natural.  If the reader thinks they have stumbled into a college lecture they may fall asleep out of sheer habit.

I try to avoid this trap but I must admit that sometimes, darn it, I want you to notice my research. This is partly because I am a recovering librarian, but mainly because when I write a historical mystery it is important to be clear when I am not just making things up.

Bandon, OR

I have a story coming out in the next issue of Black Cat Mystery Magazine called “The Night Beckham Burned Down.” It was inspired by the actual tragic events that occurred in Bandon, Oregon in 1936.
Editor Michael Bracken was kind enough to let me put an Author’s Note at the end pointing out that many of the bizarre anecdotes in my story really happened.  (For example, some people survived the wildfire by submerging themselves in a cranberry bog.) I simply imposed the true events on a group of fictional characters and, naturally, added a murder.

So that’s one way of handling the see-my-research problem.  I used a different trick in  my story in the November/December issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.  “Christmas Dinner” is part of my series set in Greenwich Village in 1958, and there is an important clue based on something that really happened back then.

I thought it was important to make that clear.  Why? Well, imagine the master detective announcing: “I knew John Fictional was the murderer because his middle name is Tyrone.  That fact was never mentioned in this novel, but I just happened to know it.”  You wouldn’t cheer; you’d probably throw the book away. Vigorously.

So I wanted the reader to know that my clue was based on an obscure fact but a genuine one. My solution was to have my detective, the beat poet Delgardo, announce the clue and then say “This is true. Look it up.” He is supposedly talking to his friends, but in reality I am having him speaking to my audience, hopefully without breaking the fourth wall.

I doubt if any of the readers really will look that fact up but at least they know they could.

Let’s get slightly off topic. Until I started writing this piece I had thought Delgardo said “You could look it up,” so I want to look at that longer phrase.

I easily found a website that credits the phrase to Yogi Berra, the legendary New York Yankees catcher and manager.  He was also known as an amazing phrase-maker so it is not surprising that the term gets attributed to him, considering its baseball connection (What baseball connection?  We will get to that.).

Berra’s talent was coming up with phrases that seemed to be half-incoherent and half-Zen koan.  My favorite: “If the people don’t want to come out to the ballpark, nobody’s going to stop them.”  And:  “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Believe me, I could go on.

But “You can look it up” is hardly a phrase worthy of the master.  So it is not surprising that I found another website indignantly insisting that the creator was actually Casey Stengel, a legendary pitcher and manager.

Sorry, folks.  He didn’t say it either.

Eddie Gaedel

James Thurber (also legendary, but as an author not a ballplayer) wrote “You Could Look It Up,” a story which appeared in Saturday Evening Post in 1941. The narrator (who sounded a lot like Stengel, actually) told a wild tale about a baseball manager hiring a little person (Thurber said midget but that term is frowned on now) because “I wanted to sign up a guy they ain’t no pitcher in the league can strike him out.”

And here is where the fact and fiction coalesce again.  In 1951 Bill Veeck, the owner of the famously awful and unlucky St. Louis Browns, hired Eddie Gaedel, a little person, as a pinch hitter for publicity's sake.  He claimed he had forgotten about Thurber’s story until his man came up to bat.

Back to fiction. One more thing about my story “Christmas Dinner.” I suspect that if any readers complain it will not be about the aforementioned clue.  If they do gripe will be about something else that occurs in the tale.  “That’s not how X happens!” they will exclaim.

Ah, but I have a link to a website that proves that the way I describe X is exactly how it happened back in 1958.

And if they don’t believe me, they can look it up.

Finding the sweet spot for detail

Thanks for coming by. This is a rerun of a column from 2016 with some updates. I hope it is helpful.

In search of blogging topics, I asked my friends for suggestions. This paraphrased question caught my eye right away:

How much detail should a writer use when describing the setting, what the characters look like, and what the characters are doing?

The amount of detail a writer should use is of course a personal matter. Some authors love expounding on setting and appearance, giving every detail so that a person could--if they had to--draw an exact replica of a room or a picture that would make a sketch artist proud. Other authors take a minimalist approach, preferring to leave setting to the readers' imagination. Readers' taste also varies, with some wanting to know every detail of each place and character's appearance, others not wanting their time wasted on that detail.
 
Given that readers' tastes do vary across the spectrum, an author obviously can't please everyone. I typically suggest something in the middle of the spectrum (though my personal taste is toward the minimalist side). You want to set the scene but you don't want to bore the reader or hold up the action.

When it comes to what characters look like, I suggest telling the reader one or two telling details, something to make the character stand out in the reader's mind. Does the character have a large mole on his cheek? Does she walk with a limp? Does she have extremely big hair? I wouldn't limit myself to thinking a character's description only applies to what he or she looks like--you might have guessed that from the question about the limp. Saying the woman who came to visit smelled like she worked in a kennel or her voice rumbled like she'd been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for decades will hopefully be more memorable than simply saying she had shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes.

Now this is memorable.

I suggest getting this type of detail in early, before the reader decides for herself what the character looks like. But don't force the detail in right when we meet the character if it doesn't work there.

If there's something important about the character's appearance or description, make sure you get it in early too. You wouldn't want your bank robber to be described as someone who sometimes slurs her words, and not show the reader until the end of the book that this character sometimes slurs.

Of course sometimes you need to give a little more detail in order to create a smoke screen. If something about a character's appearance is an important clue (or red herring), try to weave that detail into the narrative, hiding it among other details so it doesn't appear important. For instance, if it's important that Jane has dark green eyes, don't make that the only thing you say about Jane because then that detail will stand out. Instead tell the reader that Jane has ratty brown hair that looks like it hasn't been washed for a week. Her hair is so nasty you can hardly see her dark green eyes or the scar on her forehead she got from a bar fight. The reader will hopefully focus on the scar and Jane's nasty hair, with the eye color fading into the recess of her brain.

These same techniques can be used for setting. You want to create your world, but you don't need to spell out every detail to do it. Are you creating a charming town? Tell me Main Street has an old-fashioned ice cream shop and a Mom and Pop diner that's been there for decades. Let me know that a large green is adjacent to Main Street with some Revolutionary War statues and large shade trees people picnic under in the summertime. That's more than enough for me get the quaint picture you're trying to set. I don't need the name of every store, of every statue, of every street. But if it's an important clue that a certain statue was defaced, don't have that be the only damage done. Bury that clue in a report of the damage supposedly all done by the vandal.

As to detail of what characters are doing, I also advocate for minimalism. If you have two characters driving and discussing the case, I don't need to know each time the driver changes gear or flips on the turn signal. If you tell me that Bob is driving, I can picture what he's doing, though an occasional mention that Bob changed lanes could work as a tag. In contrast, you definitely want to show things that are unusual--things that are important to the plot. If Bob is distracted and keeps looking at his phone or the radio or keeps checking out the rear-view mirror because he thinks they're being followed, I want to know.

There are some actions you don't need to show at all. If your character is beginning a new day, I don't need to see her brushing her teeth unless her toothpaste is poisoned or someone is going to strangle her while she's working on her incisors. I don't even need to know she brushed her teeth. Just show her arriving at her office, finding it in disarray from the burglars who struck overnight. And if your

When brushing teeth, less is more.

character is going to a staircase, intending to go up, and she thinks a bit, and then she's at the top of the stairs, that's just fine. The reader can infer that she just walked up those steps. You don't need to show every step as it's taken unless you're trying to show that she's wobbly or that a stair is creaking or if someone is going to push her over the banister. (Such fun!)

Of course, again, everyone's mileage may vary about the amount of detail preferred. I'd love to know what you think.

Wanna read a mystery-romance-literary-sci-fi-cozy-thriller?

             I have a whole stable full of hobby horses, and probably the one with the most mileage is the question of genre.  A writer friend of mine had reviewed the opening chapter of a novel I’d just started, and asked, “What is this?  Mystery?  Romance? Mystery-Romance?”

            My first response, unspoken, was “What freakin’ difference does it make?”

            This writer friend is a published novelist, and he was right to ask, and I’m sorry but it’s a legitimate question.  The need to classify everything is an irresistible human impulse.  Probably a survival instinct.  We obviously need to impose some level of order on a chaotic, confusing existence.  It makes us feel more in control, less threatened by our rambunctious day-to-day reality.  It also provides a common language, a sort of spread sheet where individual objects can be compared to others, fit into a reasonable set of descriptions that are best understood by similarities and deviations.  Science and linguistics are utterly reliant on taxonomy and philology.  It all makes sense, making sense of the world.

            But there is a dark side.  Classification has a tendency to leave out the oddballs, which is not that bad in biology or chemistry, but when it affects people, the downsides are manifold.  No one wants to be stereotyped, or pigeon-holed. Even classified.  Put in a box. The same can be said about writing, both fiction and non-fiction.

            I understand why bookstores want to know where to slot a new book.  They have shelves with labels, and have to keep things organized and customer friendly.  People search for books according to their likes and dislikes, usually defined for them by genre.  If they can’t easily find the type of book they usually enjoy they’ll leave the store, as will most others, and the store will eventually go out of business.  Consequently, booksellers are diligent in describing their offerings according to genre, and sub-genre, better to align with publishers and not disturb customers. 

           

            So we’re stuck with this, us writers, who may occasionally want to drift outside our assigned paddocks.  Publishers hate this, by the way, and usually try to discourage these impulses, giving in only when a successful novelist is such a hot property they can afford to play around a little with YA, or sci-fi, or write a cookbook (John Irving's 101 Ways To Grill a Bear).  

It doesn’t seem to matter that many detective novels are now considered great literature, and established literary works are filled with intrigue and gunfights.  Critics get to play in this sandbox, as do Ph. D candidates proffering theses on the poetry of John La Carré or “Frankenstein – Horror Novel or Towering Critique on the Social Consequences of Rampant Industrialisation?” But publishers and booksellers have to sell books, and these nuances are lost on the genre-focused public.

            My beef, and yes I have a beef, is that too many of us humans only know how to think about something in relation to how it fits into a belief system, which is all a genre is.  You might call it dogma, or ideology, or simply a set of preferences and biases that conforms to an organized array of convictions.  In its simplest form, think of a Catholic who believes all of the church’s doctrine.  Alternative views, say by a Presbyterian or Jew, are inadmissible.  If you are a behavioral psychologist, you have a body of scholarly work that you cleave to, and by definition, reject the beliefs of a competing gang of scholars, say those anachronistic Freudians.  You can call it group think, or kin selection, or tribal loyalty.  You’re a Mets fan or you root for the Yankees, and that’s all you have to think about.

            And that’s the point.  You don’t have to think.  You just have to check those pre-existing boxes. 

            This is not a wise life strategy if you want to understand as much about the world as you possible can.  Unless you own a bookstore or hawk paperbacks out of the back of your van, genre matters not a wit.  What matters is the quality of the work, judged by that ineffable emotional response to an artistic expression, of any sort, from any source. 

ConVocation

Presumed US location of Adven

Consequences

Lily has a knack for drawing scammers like some people attract mosquitoes with similar blood-sucking results. You’ve met Lily a couple of times including a phishing scam involving Chase Bank.

I’m dismayed how often Chase victimizes its customers, freely handing out money to con artists and then blaming customers. I’ve noted a number of Chase fraud stories since and spoke with a lady who lost tens of thousands to a scam that Chase refused to acknowledge. Because Lily received advice to withdraw her funds and not a penny more, she remains the only person I know who survived monetarily intact.

She and I spent hours making phone call warnings and visiting Chase and state police, trying to apprise them of a crime in progress. We explained how the fraud worked, despite snorts and sniggers and snarky wishes *they* had a friend (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) who’d deposit thousands in their account.

“There is no money,” I insisted.

“Sure there is, we can see it right… right… Wait! Where did it go?”

After the fact, the bank blamed Lily and demanded she reimburse them for their shortfall and shortcomings as a so-called trusted financial institution. Ha. That’s ever likely.

Presumed US headquarters of Adven

Conversation

Lily sometimes struggles. She listed with LinkedIn seeking work at home. Unlike some, the girl self-motivates as long as the job doesn’t require copying the Encyclopædia Britannica in longhand.

Out of the blue, she receives a message from a European company expanding into North America. They require Lily to take a test and write an essay, but she’s hopped. She can take on as much work as she chooses and the pay is respectable, even a bit higher than her current salary, nicely filling in financial gaps.

Conjecture

Lily excitedly calls her boyfriend, she calls her mother, she calls me. I can’t pinpoint what, but something sets off my alarms. I ask for all the information she can provide, including text messages and anything else she can tell me. The list of accounting programs dismays me. Normally companies seek one or two, not half a dozen. I’m putting a damper on her happiness, but it turns out her boyfriend also senses something off.

I go to work.

Content

First thing, Adven exists. It’s a 600 employé company registered with a real web site and a presence in other European countries. But they mention nothing in the Americas. Okay, the contact explains they are setting up shop in the US.

I’ve been through that before, working for European concerns expanding into the States and vice versa. I consider calling to double check and notify Adven I suspect they are being used in a scam, but for the moment, I opt to let things play out.

Further research reveals Hanna Summa is a real person with a Linked-In page and a profile on her company’s web site. Acting so hands-on for a potential entry level employee raises an eyebrow, but again, I’ve seen this within major corporations when placing fresh folks overseas. Directors and vice presidents keep an eye on details to avoid screw-ups.  An executive engaging with new staff and line isn’t inconceivable.

Meanwhile, this ‘Hanna Summa’ assigns Lily an essay. I suggest she consider an AI piece to avoid heavy vestment at this early stage, but, honest as she is, she writes a paper as agreed. Hanna Summa promises to send a check.

And she did.

Concept

I recognize the scheme. I advise Lily not to deposit it, but ask her bank to vet the check. Most checks clear the same day, but occasionally a draft may take fifteen days or so to slog through the system. This is where this type of scam takes root. Senders instruct their victim to spend or send much of that money elsewhere, ultimately into scammers’ own pockets. By the time a check is returned as fraudulent, it’s too late– the victim has been financing the scheme with her own money.

Conversion

This method obviates another scheme, the business of money laundering. Con artists arrange with a person in another country to sell goods or collect and distribute funds and perhaps packages. The unknowing party isn’t so much a victim as a patsy, flushing money through the system. In one case, a foreign ‘artist’ arranged for ‘commissioned partners’ in North America to sell his paintings, retain 10% and return 90% to the cheerful dauber who just laundered illicit monies or and avoided taxes.

Contrariwise

Meanwhile back at the bank, instead of making a conditional deposit as usual, at Lily’s behest, clerks go to work investigating that critical slip of paper with its excellent engraving and holographic sticker between the memo and signature. When they reluctantly hand the check back to Lily, they shake their heads but with respect for her instincts.

Still playing along, Lily tearfully informs her Adven contact that her bank has refused the check, saying it was no good. Our fake Hanna expresses shock and dismay, shock I say, shock. She posited her company’s accounting partner inexplicably made a mistake, perhaps a matter of misinterpretation. She will investigate and get back to Lily posthaste.

Shock, I tell you.

Lily is still waiting for the results of the investigation.

Conclusion

Lily merely wanted earnest work to make an honest wage. Reaching back to the J.P. Morgan Chase episode, her first reaction was to visit the bank at least twice and explain something was wrong.

Opinionated pundits contend victims perpetuate swindles because of their greed. I disagree with such a blanket statement. ‘Found cash’ scams work because no owner can be found. ‘Bible bequests’ play upon emotions of grief, not greed, supplemented by deepset religious underpinnings. Avarice might motivate cynical experts, not necessarily others.

I sometimes toy with fraudsters, an activity called scam baiting. My approach is more psychological than technical. One future day I might talk about that, but know I have no sympathy for those who drain bank accounts and ruin lives.